The more gently Adriana crouched beside him, coaxing him in a soft, soothing voice, the deeper his teeth seemed to press into my skin, as if her words only fueled his stubbornness. Her tone was all concern, all patience, the picture of kindness.
"Sweetheart, let go… okay? You're scaring me," she murmured, reaching out but never quite pulling him away.
I stood there, frozen.
I couldn't exactly push a child off me. Couldn't raise my voice. Couldn't defend myself without looking like the villain they already believed I was.
So I swallowed everything.
Swallowed the pain. Swallowed the humiliation.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, forcing the words out as evenly as I could. "I'm sorry, okay?"
The boy finally loosened his grip, stepping back, still sniffling. My hand throbbed where his teeth had broken the skin, a dull, pulsing ache that quickly turned wet.
But Salvatore wasn't satisfied.
He didn't notice the blood slowly seeping from the bite mark. Didn't notice the way my fingers trembled slightly from the pain. Didn't even glance at me properly.
All he cared about was salvaging someone else's dignity.
He reached out and grabbed my arm just as I turned to leave.
"Elena," he said sharply, his grip tightening. "Apologize. To Adriana."
Adriana immediately put on that same gentle, self-effacing expression, tugging lightly at his sleeve as if trying to stop him. One finger drifted to the pearl at her throat and touched it, barely, the way someone checks a pin before walking into a room full of cameras.
"Salvatore, it's fine," she said softly. "Really, it's not a big deal. I'm okay." She paused, lowering her gaze with perfect timing. "It's just the little boy… he got hurt, and he's probably scared."
Her words were modest.
Her tone was forgiving.
And yet, they only made everything worse.
Salvatore's attention shifted instantly.
His eyes dropped to the back of her hand, where a faint red mark had formed—barely noticeable, nothing compared to the blood on mine.
But to him, it was everything.
Something in his expression softened, almost pained.
Then, just as quickly, it hardened again as he turned back to me.
Before I could react, he grabbed my injured hand and shoved it straight into the bowl of hot soup that had just been set on the table.
The heat hit me instantly.